


Murder Time

by platonic_boner



Category: Dark Matter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Tumblr Post, Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 23:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12000579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonic_boner/pseuds/platonic_boner
Summary: Modern AU in which murder is a game, not a profession.Based onthistumblr post.





	Murder Time

Emily’s first two months at university are fairly uneventful. And then the murders begin.

On the day the murders start, Emily gets to her 8:30 a.m. English class a few minutes early and sits next to Derrick Moss. Moss smiles at her when she arrives - he’s always nice to her, even if he’s a bit patronizing about it because she’s a few years younger than most first year students. 

“So what’s with the plastic dagger that got slipped under my door last night?” Emily asks him.

“Nobody’s told you about murder time?” Moss asks, grinning. “It’s a weird tradition, but it’s fun! You have to ‘kill’ whoever’s name is written on your knife. Then, you take their knife, and kill their target. Eventually, there’s only one person left standing. It’s been Portia Lin the last two years.”

“So what counts as killing someone?” Emily asks, drawing her dagger from up her sleeve.

“Whoa!” A couple students nearby jump out of their seats and back off quickly. 

“Relax,” Moss tells them, clearly unconcerned by the knife. “Just poke them anywhere it’d do real damage - head or torso, or sometimes hitting a major artery in the arm or leg, although there’ve been a lot of arguments about that- hey, ow!”

Emily has stabbed him between the ribs with the knife.

“Haha, yeah, like that,” he says. “Except not that hard and it doesn’t count if my name’s not on it.”

“Derrick Moss,” Emily says, showing him the side of the dagger. “I’ll take your knife.”

Moss digs it out of his bag and hands it over. Emily reads the name on it - no one she recognizes, but she’ll find them soon - and tucks it up her sleeve.

“Nice play,” Moss says, sulkily.

“I know,” Emily says. “You’re the third person it’s worked on this morning.”

***

For about a week, it’s chaos. Stabbing someone naked doesn’t count, so Emily’s seen way more genitals during this week than during the rest of her life combined, and she’s not very happy about it. Some people are above stripping in public, but not above sprinting through hallways and throwing random projectiles. Emily hasn’t been stabbed yet, but she’s sporting several ugly bruises from flying elbows and textbooks in these situations.

Rumour has it the (self-named) “Raza crew” - Portia Lin, Marcus Boone, and Ryo Ishida - have personally killed over half the student population. They tend to walk in a pack, guarding each other and pointing out each other’s targets. Portia’s ridiculously fast, Ryo has mastered the art of knife throwing, and Marcus seems to have endless amounts of fun tricking people into getting murdered. Emily avoids them as much as she can, because sooner or later one of them will have her name, if no one else kills her first.

Still, it’s not murder _all_ the time. Killing someone during a test is generally frowned upon, so most of her professors have assigned midterms during the week so that their classes won’t be constantly interrupted by murders. (On the plus side, this means Emily doesn’t have to worry about being killed in class. On the other hand, her grades might be taking a hit, because she’s killing people instead of studying.) Killing people in their rooms or in any of the residence meal halls isn’t allowed, either, so Emily’s taking advantage of her scholarship-provided full meal plan to be in her residence’s meal hall nearly all the time she’s not sleeping, taking tests, or committing murder.

She’s usually joined in the meal hall by Kal. They started out as homework buddies (Kal editing Emily’s English paper, and Emily debugging his frankly awful code for his introductory programming course), but are quickly becoming close friends.

“Still alive?” is how he’s taken to greeting her when she comes in after class or in the mornings.

“You know, most first years are dead by now,” Kal points out mid-week.

“I guess I’m not most first years,” Emily says.

***

Marcus twirls his current knife between his fingers. A few people look at him nervously, like he might try to murder them despite the dining hall truce.

“If that were a real knife, you’d no longer have fingers,” Ryo points out.

“If these were real knives, I’d be six feet under,” Marcus replies, pointing at the scar on his right cheek.

“Are you _ever_ going to let that go?” Portia demands.

“You mean, you _stabbing_ me?” Marcus asks. “Yeah, no.”

“I’ve saved your life at least three times already this week,” Portia says. “That should make up for it.”

“Okay, first - that, not real. This? Real,” he says, poking the scar on his cheek again. “Second - what’s with that? Nobody dares try to murder you guys.”

Portia grins. “They’re afraid I might stab them in the face, for real.”

Marcus gives her the finger.

“I suppose people simply think I’m more dangerous than you,” Ryo says. 

Marcus flips him off too. “Remind me again how many people _you’ve_ killed in the last day? Portia and I are at about fifty. Each. You killed _anyone_ since Wednesday?”

“My current target is proving difficult,” Ryo admits. “I have yet to determine her route from her room to the dining hall.”

“Really? Who’ve you got?” Portia asks.

“A first year. Emily Kolburn. She lives in the old residence.”

Portia looks at him incredulously. “You can’t even kill a _first year_?”

Marcus chortles.

***

By the time Friday rolls around, most people are dead and things have mostly gone back to normal, except that the few living people are fiercely hunting or being hunted. Kal and Emily are still alive - Emily with nearly thirty kills, and Kal with two. (He’s not taking it very seriously.) Emily considers skipping her classes - being away from her residence means she can’t hide in her room or the meal hall, the only areas that are off limits - but Kal insists on her going.

“I’ll walk you there,” he says. “If anybody comes at you, I’ll get in front of you, and you can run.”

She lets him convince her, mostly because she’s pretty sure Ryo Ishida’s the one with her name on his knife - he’s been skulking around her for days - and he doesn’t seem like the type of person to skip classes. And she may have gotten her hands on his schedule, so she knows when she’s safe walking around, and when she needs to take alternative routes.

Someone _does_ come up to them on their walk to class, but he’s got his empty hands up in the air.

“You’re Kal Varrik, right?” he asks.

“That’s me,” Kal says. 

“Thank fuck,” the guy says. “I’m Adrian, _please_ kill me.”

Emily and Kal look at each other in confusion, and Kal takes out his knife. It does say Adrian. “How’d you know-?”

“The last guy you killed told me you had my name. Just kill me before she gets to me. You’re a big guy, she probably can’t hurt you much!”

“She?” Emily asks.

Adrian takes out his knife and shows it to them. It’s got _Portia Lin_ written on it.

“I’ve been terrified ever since I woke up to this thing,” he says. “I’ve had nightmares all week. I bleed a lot when stabbed! Not that I’ve been stabbed before, but I think I would. And I can’t pull off a scar! I’d look grotesque!”

“Okay,” Kal says, raising his knife and stepping forward.

Adrian squeaks and steps back.

“I thought you wanted-?”

“Yeah!” Adrian says. “Yeah, kill me, but like - gently, okay?”

Kal rolls his eyes and goes to stab Adrian. Adrian closes his eyes. Kal pokes him very gently in the chest with the knife.

Adrian slowly opens his eyes. “Is it done? _Thank you._ Here, take this,” he says, shoving Portia’s knife at Kal. “And like, good luck not being killed. For real.”

“Thanks,” Kal says dryly, looking at the new knife in his hand.

“You’re welcome!” Adrian calls, walking away.

***

Kal comes to the dining hall for brunch on Saturday looking mildly annoyed. “I’m dead,” he announces.

“No!” Emily says. She’s been in the dining hall for a while now, content to sit in her pyjamas and slippers with her week’s worth of neglected assignments and a plateful of pastries in front of her. “How? Who?”

“That was me.” Emily’s never met Marcus Boone before, but she recognizes him from descriptions when he steps out from behind Kal: he’s tall, mustachioed, and has a small scar on his right cheek (which, according to legend, he got from Portia Lin stabbing him in an epic final showdown in their first year). Marcus claps Kal on the shoulder. “Pretended to trip so Tiny would help me up, and slipped a knife into his ribs.”

“Yeah, a little harder than necessary,” Kal says, rubbing the spot Marcus pokes.

Marcus grins unrepentantly.

“Well, good luck with your new target,” Emily says sarcastically.

Marcus snorts. “I’m not dumb enough to try to kill Portia.” 

“Anymore,” Kal tacks on.

“I’m gonna ignore that,” Marcus says. “Hey, you’re Emily Kolburn, right?”

Emily crosses her arms. “Maybe.”

“Did you know Ryo’s been hunting you for _days_?” 

“I’ve seen him skulking,” Emily says. “He’s not very good at this.”

Marcus looks delighted. He drops into the seat across from her and steals her cinnamon roll off her plate, just slightly too quick for her to stab him with her fork. 

“I’m gonna tell him you said that,” he says, biting into the perfect icing that Emily’s been looking forward to all morning.

“Why bother? He must have noticed,” Emily says. 

“I like you, kid,” Marcus says, pointing at her with an icing-tipped finger.

“It’s not mutual,” Emily says crossly.

Marcus crams the remainder of her cinnamon roll in his mouth - _barbaric_ \- and gets up from the table. “See you around, kid, Tiny.”

“Watch my stuff?” Emily asks Kal, reaching into her bag. “I’ll be right back.”

Her slippers are quiet on the dining hall floor as she darts after Marcus. People turn to watch, but nobody shouts a warning. As soon as Marcus, oblivious, steps outside the safety of the dining hall, Emily lunges forward and stabs him in the back, then quickly jumps back to safety.

The dining hall cheers. Marcus turns around slowly.

“Did you just -?”

Emily shows him the knife she stabbed him with, and holds out her hand. “Your knife, please,” she says.

“You’re a little hooligan, you know that?” 

She narrows her eyes at him. “You deserved it for stealing my cinnamon roll.”

***

Marcus swings by Portia’s room after getting killed, because she’d be pissed if she found out he knew who had her knife and didn’t tell her.

“Hey,” she says. “Come in.”

He does. “So,” he says, sitting down in her desk chair. “I got your knife.”

Portia doesn’t look even slightly worried by that. “Congrats. You can come in second again.”

“Yeah…” Marcus says. “I kinda also lost your knife.”

“You got _killed_?” she says. “Great. So who’s got my knife now?”

“I’m happy to tell you that,” he says, “but you can’t mock me.”

“Killjoy,” Portia complains. “Fine.”

“Emily Kolburn.”

Portia frowns in thought. “Wait - Ryo’s first year?”

“Yup.”

“You got killed by a _first year_?”

“Hey, careful, that was very close to mocking. Besides, if anyone deserves to be mocked, it’s Ryo, because he’s had her knife since _Wednesday_ and she’s still alive.”

“That is pretty sad,” Portia agrees. “I should go speed him up a bit. Want to come hunting with me?”

“Nah, I’ve got some homework to do. I’ll go keep an eye on your knife, let you know if it changes hands or if the kid comes hunting you,” Marcus says. “Did you know the old residence meal hall has cinnamon rolls on weekends? They’re delicious.”

***

Portia and Ryo are friends, so she texts him a warning. 

_You’re taking too long. If you haven’t killed the kid by the time I get your name, you’re dead._

Portia kills twenty people on Saturday morning. Stabbing Marcus in their first year was an accident, but nobody but them knows that, which means everybody is very eager to surrender to Portia without much hassle, and also to volunteer information on their current target. It expedites the process, and means she gets Ryo’s knife in the early afternoon.

Ryo himself is a bit harder. Marcus has been texting her updates (both useless things like _holy fuck they have cupcakes for lunch?? Why do we go to the new meal hall this one is amazing_ and somewhat useful commentary like _Ryo’s just stopped in for a snack. Clearly not impressed by cupcakes, or by kid holing up in here_ , so Portia heads on over to the old residence.

***

“I feel like this is unfair,” Emily tells Marcus, who’s sitting across from her and Kal, and reading aloud the texts he sends to Portia. He’s been keeping watch over her and sending all her movements to Portia for a couple hours already. He even got suspicious when she left to go to the bathroom, and immediately texted Portia when she came back to ask if she was still alive, because apparently Emily looked smug.

“Are you talking about the texting or the cupcakes?” Marcus asks.

He’s got a large plate full of mini-cupcakes, previously stacked about five cupcakes tall (it’s down to three now). The meal hall is quickly running out of cupcakes, and Marcus is doing his best to shield his cupcake stack from view.

“Both,” Emily says. “But mostly the texting.”

“Good to know,” Marcus says. He picks up his phone. “ _Kid thinks this is cheating._ ”

“That’s getting mildly annoying,” Kal says, helping himself to a cupcake. “Isn’t Portia nearly done?”

“She just got Ryo’s knife,” Marcus says. “She’s coming over here now.”

“Tell her to try outside the girls’ bathroom,” Emily suggests. “He got over his pride enough to lurk there a couple days ago.”

As Marcus texts this to Portia, a group at the dessert table starts to argue about the unusually small selection of cupcakes. Emily grins, raises her voice, and says, “I _still_ can’t believe you took like a hundred cupcakes.”

That gets the dessert squabblers’ attention, and they look over.

“Shit, he _does_ have all the cupcakes,” a girl says, and immediately Marcus is swarmed by angry cupcake lovers.

Emily takes the opportunity to slip away.

She finds Portia and Ryo, as expected, by the entrance to the girls’ washroom. They’re standing about ten feet apart, facing each other and looking like they’re about to get in a fight. Portia has her knife out, and Ryo’s tracking it with his eyes.

“This isn’t really a classy meeting spot, guys,” Emily says, casually strolling forwards with her knife in her hands.

Portia hardly wavers at her appearance, since Ryo immediately goes for his knife in a very quick movement that Emily’s sure has been the last thing quite a few people saw in this game.

None of them probably saw him look in confusion at his empty hand, then reach to his other pocket, pat his sleeves, and swear and look around on the ground near his feet.

“Are you _joking_?” Portia asks.

Those are her last words. Emily lunges and - since Portia’s distracted mocking Ryo for losing his knife - manages to stab Portia in the stomach. She immediately snatches the knife with Ryo’s name on it out of Portia’s hands, and charges at Ryo.

Ryo turns and runs.

A small crowd has gathered, but they quickly part to let Ryo and Emily hurtle through. Ryo’s far taller and should be faster than Emily, but she’s able to keep up: he’s not going at full speed because he’s still trying to find his knife, even though he’s already checked all his pockets twice already.

“You won’t find it,” Emily calls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryo demands, as he smashes through the front doors of the residence.

He runs down the tall set of steps outside one at a time. Emily runs after him through the doors, then hops up on the railing and slides to the bottom faster than Ryo’s legs can carry him down. She jumps in front of him with her knife held up.

There’s railings to either side, and a large crowd of spectators spilling out of the building behind him and blocking his exit.

“The washroom you’ve been guarding all day has two entrances,” Emily says, walking up the stairs towards him. “I went in the other side, snuck out, and stole your knife. You can’t kill me.”

Ryo tries to dart around her, but Emily shoves her knife into his chest.

The assembled crowd cheers.

***

The prize for surviving murder time is a bottle of vodka. Usually.

Shortly after Emily’s win, while she and Kal, and Ryo, Portia, and Marcus are still standing on the steps, the game’s coordinator, Solara, explains to Emily that this will not happen now.

“The university already gives us a hard time about this game. Especially since a couple years ago, when somebody _actually_ got stabbed.” 

“Wow, way to blame the victim,” Marcus says.

“It’s hard enough to convince them to let us pretend to murder each other already - we’ll never get to play again if we give alcohol to a sixteen year old.”

“I get it,” Emily says.

“But we _can_ give you an IOU for a bottle of vodka on your nineteenth birthday,” Solara says, handing Emily a small piece of paper.

“Quick question,” Marcus says. “I’m assuming you already bought the vodka for the winner? Who gets it now?”

Solara shrugs. “I suppose the runner-up could have it.”

Emily’s annoyance at the suggestion that Ryo get the vodka, while _she_ only gets a scrap of paper, must show on her face, because Marcus says, “Relax, we’ll share with you.”

“No, you won’t,” Kal says.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Solara says. “Fine, the runner-up gets the vodka.”

Marcus whoops.

***

That night, they’re all gathered in Portia’s room, various degrees of drunk, and bragging about their murderous exploits. Kal insists on Emily drinking juice, not vodka, but Marcus occasionally slips a bit of the vodka into her glass when Kal isn’t looking.

“I think my best kill was the guy who tried to climb out a window to get away from me,” Marcus reminisces fondly. “His pants got caught, and he was just dangling there, so I slit his throat.”

“And then helped him up, right?” Kal asks.

“No,” Marcus says. “What? It was a first floor window. He wasn’t gonna _die_ , just look like an idiot!”

“ _I_ had no good kills this year,” Ryo says.

“Sorry,” Emily says insincerely. “I had fun murdering you, though.”

“That was a pretty nice kill, kid,” Marcus says. “Nicer than stabbing someone in the _back_ , anyway.”

“You _stole_ my _cinnamon roll_.”

“I still haven’t had any kills that were better than our first year,” Portia says. “Everything pales when there’s no actual blood spurting anywhere.”

“Strongly disagreed,” Marcus says, touching his scar.

“So what’s the story there?” Emily asks. 

Portia and Marcus exchange glances.

“Secret,” Marcus says. 

“Seriously?” Emily asks.

“I’ll tell you,” Ryo offers, “If you tell _me_ how you got from your room to the dining hall without going through any hallways.”

Emily considers it, then shakes her head. “Nah. I’m gonna need the same route next year, when I kill you all again.”

Ryo chuckles, and Marcus goes, “Oooh.”

“You can try,” Portia says, with a small smile. “But next year, I’m gonna handle you myself.”

Emily raises her eyebrows and her glass. “May the best woman win.”


End file.
